


The Secret Temple

by Cities_In_Dust



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Perspectives, Gen, Other, Post-Apocanot, She/Her for Anathema, fae lore, good feels, neurodivergence, they/them pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:13:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24142651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cities_In_Dust/pseuds/Cities_In_Dust
Summary: A neurodivergent human stumbles upon some supernatural entities in a quintessential small town, but does it really matter that not everything is as it seems to be?Or, Similarities Between The Ineffables and Fae Lore, A Headcanon
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

They’d passed by the old book shop with faded lettering several times, but it was never truly inviting. They often got the feeling it was eyeing them.

Once, when the morning, and the coffee was good, they stood outside its doors, and listened to the building. Quickly, however, they became overrun by words. And because words were attached to a multitude of feeling, that were sometimes translated like images, that were sometimes misunderstood to be vivid memories… Well, you can guess that they probably took a step back.

“Okay,” they whispered. They went home.

A night without sleep, and a blooming paracosm in their head. Large sheets of paper, inks, and paints were utilized, trying to comprehend it all. Finally, they needed more source material to work with, and narrowed it down to probably a book that may or may not have been housed nearby. But first they had to breathe.

The world outside blurred, heavy with their visions, when they once again approached the book shop. With so many silent words, they asked it if it had what they needed, or if it knew where to find it.

The front door clicked open. A crevice to brave. A silent thanks, and they ventured in.

Warm, natural light held the air like it was sacred. The front desk stood unmanned, as if they’d missed Mass by about a day. Books, of every kind, in different conditions, lined many unmarked shelves. There were even scrolls, neatly spaced, tags hanging from the ends.

They smiled, because they’d been to different religious establishments before, but this one was by far their favorite.

A glimmer over a far isle caught their attention, followed by whispers of an ancient kind. They couldn’t tell if they were in the air or in their mind. They decided, just this once, that the whispers were real, and followed them.

The book stood out in an ineffable way. Its red, textured cloth cover greeted them like a new friend. Gold lettering shimmered like teeth, and they took a moment to smile at each other.

They were still hesitant to disturb the peace when another door somewhere opened, and didn’t close.

“Hello? Someone there? I didn’t think we were open today… or lately….”

Some musical creature had entered the Temple from the back way. This place was probably theirs. Maybe they’d want something in return, for letting one of their books off the shelf to be read. Luckily, there were still cupcakes in their bag. The Gentry love Their cake.

They turned to the red book hopefully. It seemed to reach out to them, so they reached back.

“Ah, hello. It seems you found a book.” The musical creature looked like a man, but also like… so many other things.

The visitor shook their head, no, they didn’t… find it. But they didn’t know how to say it. The entire memory was happening vividly, all at once, and now. They tried not to say anything. They tried to focus.

“I see.” The creature said, though not completely sure they did. “What is your name, dear?”

Several came up to the surface, but they answered, “Adrian.” Confident they’d gotten it close to right, Adrian placed the book on the somewhat tidy desk before them.

The creature’s face scrunched.

Right.

Adrian then carefully fished out the cupcakes from their bag, and placed each once on the desk, so that they ended up in a pattern— a four-sided diamond.

It was silent, as the offering was considered. Weighed.

“Highly unusual, trading books for cakes, but… um…” They looked off into the distance for a note of time. Then, “Tell you what, Adrian. I don’t much like my things leaving—“

“The Temple. I know.” It was a breath. Adrian’s eye level slipped once the contact was broken by the Keeper, and not that they meant to say anything in the first place. But that was done now. They waited, distracted, as their world mingled like smoke with the world around them.

“Oh. Well, yes.…” Deliberation. “There’s a sitting area, near the back, to the left. You may return and read during the day, but please, replace the tome in its proper place by nightfall. And you may call me Mr. Fell.”

“Thank you. Mr. Fell.” They held the now joyous book against their chest, and sailed off for the back.

“Oh, um, if you see a snake— that is, he’s harmless— just don’t mind him, dear.”

It took some concentration, but an “Alright” made its way back to the Keeper.

As promised, they found the sitting area, nestled into a windowed alcove. Two worn yet comfortable chairs sat across from each other at an antique, round table. A plush, green throw blanket draped over one of the chairs, as if someone had just been sitting there.

On the far desk, in the warm sunlight, lay a large snake coiled on a velvet, gold-lined pillow. They flicked out their tongue briefly, but otherwise made no movement. Were they sleeping? And, just like the Keeper, the snake looked like many improbable things all in one body. Yet their music was hushed. Alas, Adrian only had one brain. So they set about their business.

For about a minute, Adrian watched the light. Then, they set their watch alarm for a few hours time. They’d make it before sundown.

The chairs and table… they shouldn’t be touched, not by them. But near the window perched a violin, its bow hanging blissfully on its stand. Perhaps then there would be a music stand as well.

Some time later, Mr. Fell followed animated murmurations, silently stepping along the isles of his ancient collections. The young-looking human sounded like they were teaching, word for word from his Chaldean Oracles. Every now and again, they would comment on it. Offer perspective. Connect things. Like an elated professor who had studied this topic their entire academic lives, but who now had…

They peeked around a bookshelf. Crowley, still in snake form, raised their head and moved along with their guest. Charmed, they were sure. Crowley was always a good audience.

Mr. Fell almost teared up.

A slight beeping echoed from Adrian, then. They ceased teaching and tended to their wristwatch for several moments. It lighted, blinked, beeped and silenced. What kind of wristwatch beeped and could be a torch?

“I have to go eat, now,” Adrian told Crowley, a bit mechanically. The wristwatch… had to tell them when to eat. Well, Mr. Fell supposed, at least somebody did.

Crowley moved towards them, but then Adrian touched them lightly on the nose. 

“Boop.” 

After a moment, Crowley got themself on the human’s shoulders.

“Okay, but I have to put the book back. The Keeper gave me rules.” A thin, red rope held their spot in place, and Adrian carefully carried it back to its proper place.

Mr. Fell sat casually at the front desk, writing with a handsome quill. They looked up when the human returned, probably wanting to give Crowley back.

The snake uncoiled, and Adrian helped them change hands. They were now happily around Mr. Fell, who seemed equally satisfied.

“Thank you, Mr. Fell. I appreciate you letting me read your book.”

“Ah, I’m glad you enjoyed it, dear. Will you be returning tomorrow?”

“If it’s alright.”

“Perfectly alright.”

Adrian thought to themself a minute, savoring the warmth slowly bleeding from their chest. But then, they remembered.

“What flavor do you like?”

“Hm? Flavor of what, dear?”

“Cakes.” They might as well get it from the Gent first hand. To be sure. Plus, it was safer to bring food to a Gent, rather than take it. As legends go, anyway.

The snake’s head turned entirely to look Mr. Fell in the face.

“Oh! Well, um… quite a lot, actually!” They paused to listen to the snake softly hissing, perhaps a suggestion to help them decide. “Ah, good, yes. Do you have any lemons?”

Adrian smiled. “Plenty.”

“Excellent! We’ll see you tomorrow, then. Be safe, now.”

“Good night, Mr. Fell, and…“

“Ah. This is Anthony.”

“Good night, Anthony.” Adrian waved and left the Temple, out into the dusk.

Aziraphale wondered to themself suddenly how the human got in their shop to begin with. Not that it was really a shop, at this new location. Their gaze darted around the place, suspicious of it.

Then they turned to find a human-shaped Crowley, arm still on their shoulder, grinning at them ridiculously.

“What is it?”

“They totally think you’re Sídhe, angel. ‘The Fair Folk’.”

“O-oh? W-why do you think so?”

Crowley sighed, but smiled. “Alright, so tell me, how did they persuade you to let them read one of your precious books, when this place is basically just for your giant literary collections since we got here? Hm?”

“Well they… offered me… blueberry cupcakes.”

“Right. Anything else?” Crowley didn’t intend to hear an answer just then, as they playfully slid their arms around Aziraphale’s neck and kissed their speechless mouth.

“You old snake,” the Angel softly chided when their lips were released.

“I’ll start dinner, then?” 

“Yes. Yes, I’ll be right up.” 

After Aziraphale tidied up the desk. They made sure to lock the door, with only one condition, but was surprised that it already had it. Then, they looked around lovingly before retreating to the back way.

“Good old shop…”

*


	2. The Use Of A Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrian returns the next day-- and gets to know these complex beings just a little bit more, and vise versa.
> 
> AKA: The Use Of A Mirror Is To See Your Own Worth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my first second chapter! Hope you enjoy it. Also, thank y'all so much for the previous feedback. That made me feel awesome. On to the story!
> 
> Cheers! x

“I must say, dear, these lemon cakes are delicious.” Mr. Fell finished the first of their offerings.

“I’m glad you like them.” Adrian smiled and watched the Gent glow with a color or two they’d very rarely seen before. These colors were in a photograph, supposedly of a shaman healing an injured warrior, taken in long exposure.

“Where did you learn your craft?” Mr. Fell’s question snapped the human back to ordered time.

Different people Adrian remembered ever baking with shuffled through the air near their head, but a person wasn’t what they were searching for. Soon, the actions of baking itself, through all the time they had the adventures, suffused their senses. The smell of every dish, the feeling of every lesson in failure and accomplishment almost made them forget the question.

“In the kitchen, mostly.” 

Mr. Fell thought the human looked wistful. Particularly, in the way that they themself remembered, say, the 19th Century and became wistful. 

The back door opened with a friendly creak. A tall human-shaped being, with long, curly red hair and sunglasses swaggered over to the occupied table. They kissed Mr. Fell on the top of their head before taking a third seat at the antique table. The Chaldean Oracles sat on the music stand behind them.

Mr. Fell looked at them like they were the best thing in existence. Their light increased, and it almost blinded the poor human.

This one, they were the snake being they were with yesterday. Adrian saw their potential forms… impossible, but there. They tried to focus on the present form. Never really could ignore the imprints, though. Traffic intersections used to be a nightmare. The country proved to suit them better the longer they were here.

“Hello, Anthony.” Adrian smiled at the redhead. Something covered them, in between the layers, disrupting them. Before the flashbacks could take hold, before they could panic, they switched gears.

Anthony smirked in return, and moved their sunglasses to the top of their head. “Adrian. Making progress on your charts?”

“Oh um.. Yeah, a bit. I still can’t figure out how the book burned, but also is in once piece. I keep having dreams of things that never happened.”

“How do you know the book burned?” Mr. Fell’s eyebrows raised, surprised.

Adrian looked down. “It told me. I had a nightmare once, that the universe was ripping apart, but continuing as normal at the same time. Somehow there was a mashup universe, like a layer— people existed in a wasteland, but the physics were more visible, and put to use as utilities.”

The two ancient beings sat in silence.

Adrian continued, “It was so real. I remember the dream, but I didn’t see anything, until after I woke up.” They then felt foolish, saying things that made no sense to beings they hardly knew. “Sorry, that’s… that’s really strange.”

Mr. Fell tried to smile. Adrian tried to hear him through the now pulsating static sounds in their head.

“I admit, I haven’t heard of dreams like yours for quite some time. But it isn’t bad to have them. Should have heard the dreams Nostradamus used to tell me about. He tried to write them down, in a manner, but his art left them a little vague. Ways to interpret dreams expanded, eventually.”

“Mhm,” Anthony began. “Do me a favor. Get a paper and draw a few lines on it.”

Adrian opened their bag, stuffed with notebooks, odd papers covered in symbols, and a laptop. They took out a half-filled notebook and did as asked.

“This, what you just did, this is what matters, ultimately. Potential happening is always gonna be there, but how your more solid form relates to the current reality— like you drawing on actual paper— that has to be your context. Take it from me, spiraling into things that you can’t properly say exist is gonna do you more harm than good.”

Adrian fell into stillness, processing. 

“Why don’t I make us some tea?” Mr. Fell politely excused themself from the table and disappeared into the Temple.

Golden, thin-slitted eyes watched the human across from them. They were in fact human, as far as they could tell, but somehow this one’s senses had gotten a bit out of hand.

“Adrian?”

“Hm?”

“Do you have friends here?”

“No. Haven’t been here all that long. It’s hard to talk to people.” 

“Mind if I invite someone over, say, Saturday? Nice woman. Bit mouthy, but.. charming.”

The rushing static returned. “Okay…” After a moment, Adrian wrote their number on the paper and tore it off. They slid it over to Anthony. When he took it, Adrian set the wrist with their watch on the table and pressed some buttons. Then they got out a small keyboard and unfolded it. They typed a short sentence, and put it away.

“More notes?”

“Calendars.” They had to really commit to speaking, “Keeps track of patterns.”

“Do you work in town?”

“From home. I write programs.”

“Well, that’s useful..” Entirely mischievous features sculpted the Gent’s face. 

Mr. Fell returned with tea and biscuits. 

“Aha, Jammy Dodgers!” Anthony exclaimed. “My favorites.”

Adrian smiled, unsure if they should eat them. “Thank you, Mr. Fell.”

“You’re welcome, dear.”

Anthony, chewing on one, looked to Mr. Fell in a meaningful way, and nudged his head in the human’s direction. They were still sitting politely, unmoving.

“Oh! Right. It’s quite safe to accept, my dear. I uh, did bring them home from the store… and the tea is, well, straight from a goods trader. Though I did choose the best, if I do say so.”

“You should try this one’s Gnocci, though,” Anthony piped up, mischief still coloring them. “Superb cook, my angel is.”

“O-oh. Thank you.” Adrian thought it couldn’t hurt. They picked up a biscuit and ate it. Normal Jammy Dodger. Delicious Jammy Dodger.

“Quite alright.” Mr. Fell seemed much happier.

“Some stories are just stories.” Anthony winked, and turned to Mr. Fell again briefly. Neither of them wanted to distress the human, more than they already seemed to be, with the heavy facts about Angels and Demons just yet. Sídhe was an alright species to be. It was more or less credible, anyway.

Adrian sipped their tea, and let it relax them. They knew they’d just met these two unimaginably complex beings, but Adrian liked them. They kept out of the way, but were very kind. Most people, well.. everyone had a strange personal opinion when they first met Adrian. Even though they didn’t know them very well, or had many observation skills, those opinions seemed to be inexplicably fully formed. Sometimes those opinions came with unkind actions. Adrian fell into a protest of silence a long time ago. They tried not to let it make them disillusioned with others.. it was a difficult balance.

The three ate companionably, and parted ways when Adrian’s watch told them it was time for them to continue at home.

“That went well. I think.” Mr. Fell seemed hopeful, but still wasn’t sure of themself.

Anthony heard it. “I’d say so, angel. They know what they need. Come this far, no?”

Centuries of caring for Humanity was hard to get past. Even all the times Humanity broke their heart. 

“Suppose you’re right, darling.”

“I’ve asked Anathema over for Saturday. Think her and Adrian would get on, don't you?”

“They well may! How lovely. I’ll bake something.” Mr. Fell gazed lovingly at their companion.

“W-what?”

“You’re ever so thoughtful, my love.” They knew Anthony’s inner conversation as they watched them blush and avert their eyes.

“W-well, I jus— y’know..” Anthony found themself suddenly being kissed, in a way that made them forget the time, place, and all circumstance. That was okay. Those things could wait their turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to say, though I don't go though all the things Adrian goes through at one time, I have at one point or another. This is just a way for me to explore things with a new mirror. 
> 
> Thanks for reading x


	3. Acute Diffusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrian steadies themself, and is steadied by the right companions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry this took so long, but here's 3/3. 
> 
> Please enjoy, and thanks for reading! x

Cellos and violins gently woke Adrian. Dreams of catacombs filled with fish bones and blue torches faded, replaced by eccentrically painted furniture and cool sunlight. They lay still for a few moments, until the music resounded through their body. Sometimes they were alright with breathing physics instead of air.

As they entered the kitchen, they pressed a light switch on the wall; the electric kettle turned on. Using a small panel next to it, they picked a podcast playlist. Voices and sound effects gave the living room quiet life. 

Their working desk stood snug against a window, crowded with books and papers illustrating their recent fixation, spilling from the top to neat piles on the sides. The wide underside drawer of it hid their computer and other technical tools.

Only after two cups of coffee were they willing to even look at their watch.

They were meeting Anathema today. At Mr. Fell’s and Anthony’s place.

Knowing they’d be okay, Adrian panicked a little anyway. Attributes that people misinterpreted went through their head…

Eyes weren’t a suitable looking place if you wanted to be informed. Even though, when they made an effort out of courtesy, they saw a picture they didn’t understand. Somebody looked away first.

Then there’s tone of voice. Entire philosophies and experiences in a sentence and a little movement.

Nuances. Nuances were exhausting. They couldn’t keep track of everything, all the time, just to be able to communicate without consequence. So, mostly, they schooled their speech into something easier. Clean-sounding. Concise.

They tried not to think about time. In general, but, it was never really general, was it.

For a moment, Adrian’s chest blanked on not having better options… to, y’know, exist.

Was it worth going out today?

They finished their third cup of coffee. It couldn’t hurt to meet a potential friend.

They set a reminder to prepare to leave on their watch, and resolved to get some program sketching done. Life was half improv, half sports, carried by persistent imagination.

—

Hidden down a long, curving lane, the house eventually came into view. It wasn’t hard to miss, though, on a regular bicycle.

A pristine, 1920’s black Bentley noticed them as they walked around it to the porch. 

“Um.. Can the bike be here?” Adrian pointed to the shade.

The Bentley beamed, briefly. Adrian smiled, and flipped the kickstand down.

They forgot they had headphones in when Mr. Fell opened the door. The volume was quiet enough to hear them, so it took a bit longer for Adrian to remember that it was impolite.

Breathe…

—

Comfortable, as a warm breeze was comfortable, heavy with centuries of stewardship. Each house item had its own nature. Adrian heard their conversations with each other, gossiping about trees on the other side of the estate. Wide bookshelves and an impressive collection of plants made up the main decor. All those paintings and statues, though, were windows into memories, looked upon over, and over again. Layers and layers of stories and secrets.

Adrian couldn’t feel their middle. A gigantic, airy space replaced it.

But Mr. Fell was speaking. “…How do you like lamb?”

The Human gazed at Mr. Fell, unsure. Yet in the kitchen wafted scents so enticing, they could hardly turn away.

“Almost done.”

“Excellent. Now if you could help me finish the sauce, while I fetch some wine? Or would you prefer another drink?”

Adrian’s brain started working again. “I can do that. And, wine is okay. Thanks.” 

Mr. Fell whisked themself away somewhere, and Adrian approached the simmering concoction on the stove. This was something they were known for doing. A few times, anyway.

Face in the light steam, Adrian inhaled every particle they could handle. Bone stock. Fig. Pepper. To make a whole picture, they added cardamom and bay leaf. Automatically, they then whipped up a sweet cream mixture, with dashes of cinnamon and anise. It was in a nice serving bowl with a silver spoon by the time Mr. Fell returned. Adrian finished stirring and covered the pan as the Keeper happily placed three different bottles on the bar counter. Adrian could now breathe easily, thank Somebody.

“What is that amazing smell?!” A new voice rolled through, aided by soft footsteps. It had an excited, yet easy edge to it. They’d been long and happy friends, here. One of those friendships that was proven and sealed by slow events, no more than a handful over time. 

“I believe Adrian made a lovely show of the lamb sauce, if you don’t mind me saying. Hello, Anathema dear.” Mr. Fell and Anathema kissed both cheeks in greeting.

Anathema put her bread bag on the counter and held out a hand to Adrian. “Anathema Device, Local Occultist.”

Adrian took it and said, decidedly, “Yes, I know who you are.” They waited. After a moment, though, “Sorry, that’s..”

“Doctor Who! I love that show!” Anathema smirked. “You can sit by me. …Not that there was a choice. I’m gonna say hey to Crowley.” She pointed out the back. The woman sidestepped, then turned to go outside.

Adrian gazed after her for a moment, in hope. They turned, and again leaned near the steam.

“Status?” Mr. Fell sipped his glass of wine.

“I agree. Oh, I mean…” Calculation. “Three minutes.” They put the lid back, though had to ask, “Is Crowley, um…?”

Mr. Fell smiled. “That’s Anthony. I’m sure either is fine, dear, but you may ask. They’re tending to the garden just now.”

A nod. “Thank you.” For so many things, for this, for existing. But they shouldn’t get too deep at the moment.

Mr. Fell seemed to sense it nonetheless. They really thought about it. “And the same to you.”

They didn’t know what was happening with their own face, but eventually something coherent crossed Adrian’s brain. It turned out to be a monologue, so they let it run somewhere else, while outwardly they nodded and left for the garden.

-

“It’s because you snapped at it, Crowley. You could, perhaps, apologize?”

“Easy for you to say, witch. What’s to say it just climbs anything it wants to, hm?”

“It’s a pot of morning glories.”

“What’s your point?”

Sudden silence caught Adrian off guard. Pressure in their head increased with the echos of ‘eyes’. They made themself look at the plants in Crowley’s or Anthony’s hands. Although the name, they didn’t know enough about the being if they didn’t know what to call them. The need to communicate outweighed a runaway pulse.

“So um, what do I call you?”

The being almost changed shape, and seemed to take a lot of will to remain human-looking.

“Oh, right. W-I mean, Anthony’s alright. This one just like surnames, s’all.”

“It’s really not that weird.”

“Okay.” Adrian nodded, satisfied. “Plants don’t have much energy. They can’t run amok because they can’t… They can’t run. Everything they have is just to process. Or… moral support. Like in my school library.”

Something ran behind Anthony’s face. Adrian couldn’t tell what it was, but Anathema looked justified and grinned.

Finally, Anthony looked down at the cluster of morning glories. A string of noncommittal sounds fell out of their mouth. “I suppose… well, that’s alright then.”

“A+ apology,” Anathema patted them on the shoulder, a bit consoling.

Anthony held the pot protectively and hissed, but gently placed it back on the table with the others. Then they sniffed. “Who brought the bazaar?”

-

Riding home, as if swimming at night, purple sky diffused in air, Adrian’s chest breathed life. On their bicycle swung a charm Anathema gifted them, a promise of safety in travel. They hadn’t lived here long, but now their feet were just a little more solid.

Anything could come. They’d be ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :heart:

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to bring out some of my personal Nd perspective in Adrian. Nd can be magical!
> 
> Thanks for reading x


End file.
